


silent nights  (christmas/winter oneshot)

by kintou



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas oneshot, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 20:31:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16981311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kintou/pseuds/kintou
Summary: Jean can't go home for Christmas because he's studying abroad, and Marco brings Jean to his parents home. What they didn’t expect is that Marco’s family thinks they’re dating.A/N:  VERY SOFT





	silent nights  (christmas/winter oneshot)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based off a situation that happened in my family. My cousin brought an exchange student home, and everyone thought they were dating. With my cousin it turned out they were only friends, but don't worry, that won't happen with Jean and Marco.

I didn’t know Jean very well. He was not in my class, but in Connie’s. They’d drag him along when we were going to get dinner with the group. I could see that he had a hard time keeping up with us sometimes; he was translating our English in his mind and most of the time we we weren’t even saying things that made sense. He was quiet, but not shy. No, certainly not shy. Rather than that he looked confident in his silence. Like he couldn’t care less about the conversation.

But like I said: I didn’t really know him. I didn’t know if he was still translating all words to french and back. I didn’t know if he cared. I didn’t even know if he liked being here.

Sometimes he looked a little lost.

And me? I studied him too much. Connie had noticed it too, and sometimes grinned at me. He was a handsome guy, that was it. I thought he was interesting, and I wanted him to feel accepted.

‘Jean!’ Connie called out. I perked up. No one noticed how I watched him. How I reacted to his name. ‘I asked my mum if you could come around for christmas, but she said no.’

‘Oh, that’s alright.’

‘It really sucks, dude, no one wants to be alone of christmas day.’

Reiner perked up now. ‘Not even your grumpy ass, Jean.’

‘It’s no problem,’ he said with his French accent. His accent made made my heart take a fucking leap. But he himself looked lost again, and I hated that look. Of course it mattered if he was alone with christmas or not. No one wanted to be alone, specially not someone who was away from home all the time.

The rest of the group had gotten back to talking, I was somewhere else with my mind. I could see Jean wasn’t following the conversation at all. He was staring into space and furrowed his brows.

‘Jean-’ I said, reaching out to him to touch his shoulder. ‘Jean.’

‘Hm?’ He looked at me, surprised. Then I realised I hadn’t ever really talked to him. He was just always there and I couldn’t help but like his presence. But we had smiled, or stared at each other at most.

‘You can’t go home for christmas, right?’

‘No, France is.. too far and too expensive.’ He bit his lip. He looked like really wanted to go.

I nodded. ‘Yeah of course.’

‘Jup.’

‘Eh- I was thinking.. You could go home with me. My family is really open about that sort of thing.’

‘I don’t want to push myself.’

‘They’ll really like it! Don’t worry.’

Connie slammed the table, started yelling: ‘Marco’s family is so freaking nice! You’ll get hugs and a shitload of food. I love Marco’s mum, man.’

I laughed: ‘See?’

Jean bit his lip. ‘That’s too much.’

‘Jean, you might find it awkward because you don’t really know me,’ I noticed I was fidgeting, stopped, looked at him, ‘but I know you wouldn’t want to be alone the entire christmas break.’

Jean rubbed his neck, looked down at the table. ‘Let me think about it.’

I grinned, nodded. Those words, ‘let me think about it,’ galmed through my head all of my lessons. Him and his French accent kept repeating itself in my head over and over again. I didn’t really know what I had gotten myself into, but it sounded like it would be fun.

 

I didn’t see Jean after that. I wondered if he was avoiding giving me an answer. But when the weekend before the christmas break came he send me a message.

‘ _Connie gave me your phone number. I think I’ll take your offer, if it still stands’_

I stared at his message for a while. Read every word slowly. I was really taking someone home for christmas, for the first time in my life. I know I was making too much of a big deal out of it. Jean wasn’t really my friend, let stand my lover. Still, it was something: I was bringing someone home.

And so I texted him back: ‘Yes of course _! (:  You have no idea how excited my mum is right now.’_

 

We met in front of the school at seven in the morning. He had a small sports bag full of clothes for a few days. He had bags under his eyes and was wearing a thick black scarf around his neck. He looked really handsome.Tired, sure, but handsome. Suede black jacket on dark grey jeans, neat shoes.

He greeted me once I was a meter away. ‘It’s cold.’ he mumbled into his scarf.

‘And early,’ I agreed. ‘Are you ready?’’

‘Definitely not.’

I chuckled at that, started walking anyway. He’d never be ready, but this would certainly be better than staying at the dorm watching netflix shows the entire break.

We walked towards the train station in silence, side by side. At the train station he bought me coffee, he insisted on it. I got a mochaccino and he got some black coffee.

‘Did you have breakfast?’

He shook his head. ‘Not really a breakfast person.’

‘We’ll just have to change that. I’m sure my mum will manage, but let me buy you something. Coffee bread good? You want a baguette?’

‘Baguettes here are shit.’

I laughed. ‘So you’re getting coffee bread.’

‘Whatever.’

When I got my bread and coffee, we walked towards the train. It would be a five hour trip. We sat down next to each other. Jean near the window. I told him that it would be nice for him to look outside, because he had never seen this part of country yet.

We ate while I told him stories about my family. He just laughed. They made him light up a little, I think. But maybe it was the coffee sinking in, or becuase of the warmth it gave his hands. I didn’t care what it was, I loved to see such a peaceful look on his face. I loved seeing that he wasn’t as nervous anymore.

Soon after we finished our drinks Jean fell asleep. At first I he was staring at the houses and fields flashing by but soon enough he had closed his eyes to doze off. His head bumped against the window. His lips hung a little open. I tried not to stare at him. Tried reading a book, and listening to some music. The bumping of his head made that kind of impossible, so carefully I pulled his head away from the window, to lay him against the chair.

He made a complaining noise, furrowed his brows, and then he put his face against my shoulder. He even took my arm in his and pulled it closer. With his nose snuggled into my sweater he smiled, completely unawear of what he was doing to me.

And that’s when I first realised it: Jean was a very soft person.

That was shocking to me, because he always just seemed distant and cool. I can’t imagine finding that shocking now, but I did. I tried not to move and couldn’t help but focus on his breath. His breath was slow. I could feel his heart beating fast, though.

Carefully, I placed my head against his, and stared outside at the same nature I had seen so many times.

 

My dad picked us up at the station. I lead, the still tired, Jean towards the car. Jean looked sleepy, but as soon as he saw my father he straightened up. I chuckled at his behavior.

My dad offered his hand to Jean. Their handshake was a strong one. Soon enough they warmed up, started calling each other by their first name. Jean had to listen to the same stories I had told him in the train all over again.

 

As soon as we walked into our house, my mum, aunt and my sister came rushing to the front door. ‘Marco!’ They yelled, and hugged me tightly. When they had all hugged me, mum put her arms around Jean and hugged him too. Jean looked at me, awkward, shocked. I couldn’t help but laugh at him.

‘Welcome to the family, darling.’ My mum told him.

‘Mum you can’t just hug everyone.’ I told her.

She laughed. ‘Don’t be boring, Marco, everyone deserves a family hug.’ She stared at Jean. ‘Right, Jean?’

‘Eh- Ah- Yes, eh- I think I didn’t catch your name, so-’

‘It’s Anja. Don’t worry about it sweetheart, I haven’t told you.’ She laughed.

When my sister gave Jean a hand, she leaned in a little and kissed his cheek. Even Jean seemed surprised by it. He moved to give her a kiss on her other cheek as well. Like that they gave each other two kisses.

I looked at her, surprised, trying to cover it up.

When she pulled back she grinned. ‘I read that French people will give you two kisses as a greeting and wanted to see for myself.’ Jean blushed furiously red at that. ‘You passed the test,’ my sister laughed.

‘Oh my god.’ I mumbled, pulling Jean along into the living room. ‘Don’t mind them.’

‘It’s nice.’ Jean mumbled.

I turned around. ‘I thought you’d hate hugs and stuff.’

‘Actually, I’m just glad they’re not being cold.’

I grinned. ‘Watch what you say, they’re going to act like you’re really apart of the family soon enough.’

There was a big christmas tree standing in the living room, presents underneath it. The christnas decoration was mainly red. The tree was completely filled with all kinds of stuff.

We looked at it for a while then walked up to the stairs. ‘We have a guestroom, I’ll take you.’  

The guest room was next to my room, in front of the bathroom. It was really small, and there was a desk with a computer as well, but it was fine to sleep in.

But, when I walked into the guestroom, the bed was unmade, and there were boxes full of the christmas decorations we didn’t use on top of it. ‘Oh-’

‘What’s wrong?’ Jean asked while coming out from behind me.

‘The bed’s unmade.’

‘We can do that, probably? Right?’

‘This isn’t like my mum. Wait here for a second.’

I walked to the stairs again. ‘Mum!’

She appeared in the opening of the stairs with a smile on her face. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘The guest room, it’s not made.’

‘Of course not, darling. It’s 2018! We’re not going to force you two to sleep in different rooms! We didn’t buy you a big bed for nothing.’

Oh. Oh. So that was what was up.

She thought Jean was my boyfriend. That- that was something else. Jean didn’t even know that I was gay though, and him knowing that would probably make him feel awkward.

I walked back into the guestroom.

‘What’s up?’ Jean asked.

‘She thought we’d want to sleep in one room.’ I bit my lip. ‘But I can ask her to-’

‘No. No I don’t want to bother her anymore. I don’t mind.’

I blushed. ‘Alright, I don’t mind it either. It’s fine, really.’

 

Jean got dressed in a neat pants and a dark blue sweater. It looked like a really expensive sweater, and it had a turtleneck that made his jawline stand out even more. He looked really beautiful. A nervous itch spread through my body. How could my mum have thought that Jean’s my boyfriend? Did she get a proper look at him? The boy’s gorgeous. And I know that mothers always think their children are the most beautiful, but heck, she’s not blind.

Still, a feeling of pride spread through me when I watched him put his sweater on. He checked himself in the mirror, looked anything but pleased with his look. He looked nervous.

‘What’s wrong?’ I walked up to him. Now I could see both of us in the mirror. I looked dorky compared to him, my red sweater was baggier, my freckles bubbly.  

‘I don’t want to embarass you.’

‘What-’ I deadpanned.

‘I’m going to say something awkward, or bump over the damn christmas tree. Your family won’t understand me with my accent, they will look at me and-’

‘Jean, I’m going to ask you to stop right there.’ He did. He bit his lip and looked down, he warmed my heart.

‘I’m sorry that I came, I don’t know what-’

‘Jean. Stop, please.’ I took his hand, daringly. ‘Look into the mirror.’ He did. ‘What do you see?’

‘A fucking mess, and some good looking freckled guy.’

I chuckled. ‘I see the opposite really. Actually.. I did think that you’ll embarrass me.’ He frowned. ‘Because if I walk into a christmas party with someone so good looking they’ll realise I’m not. Or they won’t understand how I met someone smart like you. That’s what I thought.’

‘You’re an idiot. No one would think something like that.’

‘Exactly. I am, and you’re one too.’

‘So this speech to make me feel good ends with the conclusion that I’m an idiot?’ He laughed.

I chuckled. ‘Yes, definitely.’

‘And- eh-  are you sure I look-’

‘Jean! You look beautiful. Just make sure none of my cousins fall in love with you.’

His eyebrow perked up. Something in my belly dropped. ‘Cousins huh? Are they ho-’

I punched his shoulder. ‘Shut up, idiot.’

 

We helped my mother get everything done for dinner. My mum joked around with Jean a lot and called him darling all the time. I wondered when to tell her we weren’t dating. Still, if she’d treat the boy I would once bring home like this, it would make me really happy. At first I was really doubtful about if she had accepted I’m gay. She seemed to get used to the idea later on, but we rarely spoke about it at all. Now here Jean was, and mum was treating him like she had a new son to spoil. My sister was constantly joking around with him. My dad gave him overprotective side eyes but called him ‘son’.

It made me feel glad.

It made me feel guilty that it wasn’t real.

‘Mum, the table looks beautiful.’

‘Oh! Jean did half of the work.’ she joked.

Jean, getting more of an accent when embarrassed, mumbled: ‘I-I only did what she told me.’ I could tell he was feeling glad that things were going smoothly.

When the bell rang my mother quickly took off her apron and rushed to the door. I heard my sister walk down the stairs, I saw Jean fidgeting. ‘Jean..’ I whispered, ‘It’ll be fine.’

‘Hm...’

I put my arm around him and squeezed him a little, grinned. ‘I promise.’  

At that moment my aunts family came in. My aunt hugged me, then she hugged my sister, and then Jean. Jean was once again overwhelmed by the hugs, but returned them this time. My aunt came closer to me, and whispered in my ear: ‘Good job, Marco.’

My heart crashed into my stomach.

Not them too.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

‘What’s wrong?’ Jean asked, touching my shoulder.

‘Nothing..’ I tried to smile. ‘Let’s sit.’

 

Mum got the grown-ups red wine, and the children something that looked like it. My aunt leaned over the table. ‘So, Jean right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Are you from around here?’

‘No.. I’ m from Nancy, in France.’

‘That’s so lovely! Why did you move here?’

‘To study. I’m here for four years.’

‘So you’ll leave again? Marco, that’s awful!’

I hadn’t really thought about the fact that him being an exchange student meant him leaving someday. ‘It’s my first year though,’ Jean mumbled quickly, smiling at me shyly.

‘So you two have enough time together! That’s nice.’

When I realised where this was going, I quickly interrupted her. ‘How did your father’s operation go, by the way?’

‘Oh! Yes. Luckily it went very very well-’  and like that she kept talking. Jean gave me a meaningful smile, and I bumped my arm against his playfully.

During dinner the conversation was more centered.

My grandpa was talking about the apartment he lived in, and all the help he got now.

My niece told everyone about the school she wanted to get into.

My mum told a dramatic story about how hard it was to get the christmas tree home.

And after that it was, apparently, my turn. I was just shoving a potato into my mouth when my uncle asked:  ‘And Marco, how did you meet Jean?’

I quickly chewed my potato, becoming red already, but Jean piped up. ‘I’m in class with a good friend of Marco.’

I swallowed, nodded. ‘Yeah, so we ended up sitting together at breaks all the time.’

‘Good, good,’ my uncle nodded. ‘You should come around more often! Just come  with Marco every time he goes home.’

Jean blushed. ‘Thank you.’

 

‘Everyone!’ My mum yelled as soon as dinner was finished. ‘I think it’s time for presents!’

‘Mina, you go get the first one!’ My sister walked towards the christmas tree, looked for a present for my niece and brought it to her.

It was a hair straightener.

There was a small poem adjusted to the present, like all the presents did.  

 _‘Every morning I see the most beautiful girl walking out  of our home,_  
_and of course I could have known,_  
_That she wanted something to perfect her look,_ _  
_ so santa wrote down in his book,  
 _something for the girl who was already oh so gorgeous,  
_ _so her hair will have a curl or two less.’_ She laughed. ‘Thank you, Santa.’ She pointed at her mum with her present.

Like that we went on. My aunt, my sister, my grandpa, and my mum all got their presents and poems. And when it was my mum’s turn to pick someone’s present, she of course got Jean’s. When Jean noticed her walking our way, he got out of the way so she could reach me.

My mum laughed. ‘Jean, darling, it’s yours.’

Jean opened his mouth, his eyes wide. ‘But- but I didn’t ask for anything.’

‘You’re apart of the family when you’re here with christmas.’

Jean looked nervous, somehow like he was about to cry. I don’t know where that look came from. I wondered how much he had missed his family. His hands shivered when he took the present. ‘It’s something small, but Marco gave me a little hint.’

‘Oh.. This is..’ Jean glanced at me, and I gave him the softest smile I could manage. ‘Thank you so much.’  He opened the present. There was a book inside of it. I had told my mum he liked classic books, so I hope this one was good. It was a French book. I didn’t understand the title.

‘I thought it might be nicer to read in your mother language. You’ll be hearing so much English, it must get boring!’  

‘Thank you so much.’

‘And the poem!’

Jean nodded and opened the folded paper. I wondered what my mum had come up with. Probably something about how being away from home is sometimes scary, and that books will stay the same.

‘ _Dear Jean,  
_ _I thought the day would never come,  
_ _when Marco would take someone home.  
_ _He has been holding back to talk about love,  
_ _and maybe I haven’t pushed him enough.  
_ _For a while it was kind of hard,  
_ _when he said it’d be a boy, there was a rough start.  
_ _But I knew one day he’d meet someone so amazing,  
_ _he wouldn’t be able to hold it in.  
_ _Everyone fell in love with you too now that you’re here,  
_ _and I know you’ll take good care of my dear.  
_ _Love,’_

Jean held the letter in his hand, confused and unsure what to do. I bit my lip. I couldn’t believe that she’d say all of that in such a letter. It was sweet, really, really sweet, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

‘I-’ Jean tried to say something, but couldn’t decide on what. Stuttered.

‘Mum-’ I tried to say something to, but nervousness got the best of me. Fear was rushing through my body.

My entire family was staring at me, confused.

So I left.

I just started walking, didn’t take my jacket or keys, and just left.

That was weak of me. I should have explained, at least. They deserved that.

I didn’t really know where I’d go, and it was freezing outside, but I couldn’t look at their proud faces for one more second.

There were footsteps behind me. ‘Mum I’m-’

‘I’m not your mum.’ I heard the rough voice mumble.

‘Jean.’

I turned around, looked at him for a second. He stared at me with wide eyes, his nose and cheeks were red. ‘You need to wear your jacket.’ He held it out to me. I quickly put it on. My keys were still in my pocket. My body warmed up slowly.

‘Do you want to go for a walk?’

Jean just nodded, followed me. We walked in silence for quite a while.

Somewhere, snow started falling. We watched the white flakes fall. He got quite a few of them in his hair. He looked really cute like that. The first flakes melted, but slowly, the ground was becoming white.

It was beautiful.

‘Jean, I’m sorry.’

‘What for?’

‘This morning I kind of gathered that my mum thought that we were dating, but I didn’t want to tell her the truth when you were there. I didn’t want you to know I’m.. you know.’

Jean stopped walking, made me turn around to look at him. ‘So even the part of that poem that says that you’ve become prouder and less afraid was wrong.’

‘No.. I mean.. Yes, maybe. I just didn’t want you to feel awkward.’

‘I wouldn’t be awkward. Not more than I usually do, at least.’

I snorted ironically. I shocked myself with how rude it sounded. ‘And definitely not more than I made you feel just now.’

He smiled hasistent. ‘I don’t mind, not anymore.’

‘You’re too nice.’

‘People usually say I’m an asshole.’

‘They haven’t met you yet.’

He chuckled. ‘I just think you’ve made me nice.’ I blushed. ‘And also.. eh- I’m kind of glad that you’re.. gay.’

‘W-what?’ I blushed, hope exploding in my head.

He blushed aswell. Tried to start a sentence a few times, failed, bt eventually went with:  ‘Now I don’t have to feel awkward and guilty telling you I’m bisexual.’

I stared at him, couldn’t help but find him amazing. Maybe my mum was right. I wasn’t dating him but Jean being here made me happy, and confident.

‘Can I hug you?’

He chuckled. ‘You ask me now? I’ve been attacked with hugs ever since coming here.’

‘This won’t be the same. This is one I really need.’

‘C’mon then.’ He opened his arms, I walked into them. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, I held him as tight as I could as well.

I snuggled my nose into his hair. ‘I forgot to say that I’m glad you’re here.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah.. yes I really am.’

Then, we kept standing like that. We held each other, while snow fell down on top of our heads. His breath was warm against my neck. I rubbed his back for warmth, slowly.

When we pulled back we stared at each other for a while. I let my eyes travel over his face, didn’t even feel guilty for doing so. He seemed to focus on my freckles, smiled very softly.

I didn’t know what to tell. I wanted to tell him ‘thank you’ or ‘you’re beautiful’ or ‘never go back to France please’ but I had no right to say any of those things, so I just kept on staring at him.

‘You want to head back to your family? They’re probably worried.’

‘Yes.. That’s a good idea.’

I dared to take his cold red hand in mine, and shoved it into my pig pocket. He didn’t say anything about it, just started walking closer to me.

‘Shall I let you in on a secret?’

I smiled. ‘Yeah, I’ d like that.’  

‘I’m a mama’s child. A huge one. I really miss my mum a lot, and when I’m home I’ll help her out and hang out with her all the time.’  

I grinned. ‘That explains why my mum loves you so much.’

‘Isn’t she always like that? Like.. super nice and all.’

‘No.. well, yes, she’s always nice, but she was treating you like a second son. I can tell she really likes you.’

‘I feel guilty now.’

‘You should feel special.’

‘I feel guilty and special now,’ he laughed.

 

When we walked back in, our hair completely wet from the snow, my mum came walking up to us. Jean let go of my hand. She was holding two towels, put them on our heads and dried our hair carefully. ‘You boys should be careful in the cold.’

‘Jean brought my jacket.’ I mumbled.

‘Hmm.. good.’ she nodded. ‘We- we saved your present for last, Marco, sweetheart.’

‘Thank you mum.’

When I came in my sister brought me my present. Jean was standing in the back of the room and smiled at me really softly. It was a look that made me feel like he loved me, really, and I wondered if we had stared at each other like that before.

My present was a big square, it had no poem on it anymore. I ripped the wrapping paper. It was quite heavy.

A big brown record player appeared. Two jazz records laying on top of it.

I could only stare at it.

‘Is that the one you wanted sweetheart?’ my mum piped up.

‘Oh my god.’ I looked up at my mum and dad. ‘Thank you, wow. Yes, this is the one I wanted.’

Jean came closer to me, looked at the record player from close by. He looked as excited as I was. ‘Holyshit, this is the one I have in France. It’s really good.’

‘Right?’

‘What records do you have?’

‘Miles Davis’

Jean moaned, ‘Oh hell yeah.’

‘And Chet Baker.’

Jean turned around and started reading the titles on the back of the player, mumbled some things about the songs he saw. Like that we disappeared into our own world, talking about music, and everyone else started chatting and eating again. My mum gave Jean and I some hot chocolate. There were a lot of sweet snacks on the, now clean, table. When my mum walked towards the kitchen with the empty cups in her hands, Jean bumped against me. ‘Go after her..’ he whispered.

I nodded, had been thinking about it as well. Before walking into the kitchen I glanced at Jean one more time. He gave me that soft smile again. That soft smile made me remember how he had allowed me to hug him, how he had held my hand on the way back. Like I needed him.

Maybe I did.

´Hey mum,’ I said when I walked into the messy kitchen. ‘Can I help?’

‘You can-’ she looked around ‘dry and I’ll wash.’

‘Sure, mum.’ I leaned in to kiss her cheek. She wrinkled her nose and smiled. I wanted to tell her ‘thank you, I love you,’ but talking about what happened was the only way to properly show her that I did.

I dried a few plates before speaking up, doing it with all my concentration, so that I didn’t have to think about anything else yet.

‘So.. mum.. about Jean.’

‘And about what happened earlier,’ she corrected me.

‘Right..’ I swallowed. For a few more seconds I focussed on drying a fork, then I put it down and looked up at my mum. ‘That was really sweet, mum, really. It’s just that- Jean is just someone who couldn’t go home for christmas. He’s not my boyfriend.’

‘Oh- I-I thought something like that was up when you walked away.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s it. He didn’t know I’m gay so I thought he’d feel awkward.’  

‘But- I’m sorry. I just thought that you two fit together really nicely. When I saw you two together I thought I could be sure that you- you liked him. I’m sorry darling.’

‘Maybe.. I kind of- just now we talked- he’s really sweet mum. He didn’t mind at all, he’s not.. eh.. Who knows, you know.’

She perked up. I never talked to her about love. I had always kept quiet about crushes, about being gay. ‘Who knows?’ she asked.

‘Who knows.. if it’ll become something. I might.. He’s really nice isn’t he?’

My mum grinned happily. ‘And beautiful.’

‘Yeah- and that.’

‘And he has a French accent.’

I felt heat rush to my face ‘Oh my god mum, stop.’

‘I just said he has a French accent! Look at yourself!’

I held her shoulders. ‘Shh- mum, he might hear you, oh my god.’

She laughed brightly at that. ‘Who knows, he says, red like a tomato’

‘Mum!’

 

When leaving everyone had hugged us goodbye. They had told Jean they’d hope to see him again. Jean said he wished for the same.

My mum asked if she needed to make the other bed. It was 1am, Jean said ‘hell no’ because he didn’t want to bother her. It made me feel lightheaded. When we had said goodbye to everyone I carried my record player up the stairs, and he carried the records and his book.

Jean put on a pair of sweatpants and a Ramones shirt while I tried to avoid looking at him by focussing on connecting my record player.  

When he had gotten dressed, I put on my pyjama too. It was red with black and green cross hatch. I wore a black shirt on top of it, woolen red socks.

Jean carefully put on the Chet Baker record. _It’s always you_ ringed through the room. I carefully walked up to Jean, sang: ‘ _Funny it’s not a star I see, it’s always you.’_ He chuckled, stood up, and hummed with me.

‘Care for a dance?’ I dared to ask.

‘I can’t dance,’ he mumbled.

‘Does that mean you won’t?’

He blushed, bit his lip. ‘No.’

The record kept on playing, softly so that my parents wouldn’t hear anything. Chet Baker played and sang is heart out. My heart leaped out of my damn chest. Luckily I managed to put my arms around Jean’s neck without shivering too much. Jean put his hand on my hip very carefully,

 _If a breeze caresses me, it’s really you strolling by._ _  
_ _If I hear a melody, it’s merely the way that you sigh._

The way we sang was more of an hum, or a whisper. The way we danced was just a careful sway against each other. His nose touched my neck, I felt his breath against my hairline.

 _It’s always you._ We stood still, in each other’s arms. Jean kept his face in my neck, my arms were still around him. I didn’t dare to move. I felt Jean’s hand grip my hip a little harder, pull me a little closer. It was a small gesture, but it made my head light.

Here I was; on christmas eve, dancing with this beautiful French man in my pyjama.

I let go of him. My hand shivering. Jean looked up at me, he looked afraid.

‘Thank you, Jean.’

I softly touched his chin, making him look up and at me. His eyes were glinstering. He didn’t even try to pull back.

I pushed my lips against his.

It was a soft, send shivers through my body. We were carefully. He gripped the hip he was holding as if he needed something to hold onto, moved with my touch. I let my fingers travel to his cheek to stroke his skin softly. He deepened the kiss, let his fingers travel from my neck into my hair.

When we pulled back he opened his eyes.

I smiled, felt blood rush to my face.

 _A touch of your lips_ started playing. I grinned tried to hide my face jokingly: ‘Oh my god.’

_The touch of your lips.._

‘Shut up, Chet Baker, you’re making this embarrassing,’ Jean mumbled.

upon my face..

Like that, we were grinning at each other, blushing furiously red.

 

Still giddy, we climbed into bed. I turned the record off. Jean climbed onto the side closest to the wall, held up the sheets fo me. The sheets were ice cold.

Jean was shivering.

I don’t know what it is about unused rooms, but they always feel cold anyway. The sheets have been lying there for such a long time, the windows were probably open until a while back just so that it wouldn’t get smelly.

‘Are you cold?’

Jean reached out to me, making me wonder if he wanted to hold me, but hen he put his hand on my hip. ‘Ah shi- oh- cold!’

He chuckled. ‘Yeah, I am.’

‘I gathered..’ I reached out to him, pulled him into my arms. Jean wiggled a little closer. ‘Is this alright?’  I could feel Jean nod against my chest. His breath was slow, his heart fast. ‘Put your hands under my shirt.’

‘They’re cold.’

‘I’m like a living heater. I’ll get used to it in no time.’

He chuckled, pushed his hands against me. I tried not to show how cold they were, just enjoyed how Jean moaned because he enjoyed the warmth that much.

‘Good night, Jean,’ I whispered.

 

The first knock on the door didn’t wake me. That was unusual for me. So the door opened without much hesitation; Jean and I weren’t dating, so mum felt no reason to be sneaky or careful.

Joke’s on her.

When the door opened my eyes shot open. Jean was still laying on top of my chest, his arm around my chest tightly and one of his legs in between mine.

‘Marc- oh-’ She bit her lip obviously, with a smile on her face. She whispered: ‘Sorry..’

I shook my head. Tried to sit up. When I did, Jean pulled me closed. ‘Hmm.. no..’ he moaned. I blushed furiously red, my mum grinned.

When my mum’s grin had turned into a satisfied, soft smile, she whispered:  ‘Breakfast in fifteen minutes.’

I nodded, caressed Jean’s head. His frown made me feel lightheaded.

With a small wave my mum closed the door again. For a few seconds I laid down and repeated the conversation we had yesterday in my head. I wondered what she was making out of this.

Jean was holding me really tightly. He probably had done so all night. Also.. I remember scooping closer to him and hugging his back when he turned around as well. Still, Jean looked like he was enjoying his sleep. And I know I hadn’t slept this deep in quite a while.

‘Jean.’ I ruffled his hair a little.

It didn’t wake him.

‘Jean.’ I shook his shoulder.

Still no reaction.

I pushed his shoulder a few times. ‘Jean.. you need to wake up. You’ll get breakfast.’

Jean just moaned a complaint.

‘And there’ll be coffee?’

‘Hmm..?’

‘Coffee.. It’s also christmas.’

Jean opened one eye. Glanced up at me, then down at the way he was holding me. ‘Oh- I-’ He pulled away his arm slowly, sleepily. He was frowning.

‘Jean, it’s fine..’ I said as soft as I could. It stopped him in his pace. He didn’t put his arm back on my chest, he just kept still. ‘There’s breakfast in ten minutes.’ He still didn’t move. ‘There’ll be coffee.’ He slowly nodded.  ‘We- eh- we could lay.. and maybe cuddle for five more minutes.’ I looked at him. Sleep was written all over his face. There was an imprint of my pillow on his face. ‘If you’re down with that.’

He pushed his head into the pillow. Mumbled a muffled:  ‘Yeah.. I’m down with that.’

 

We walked downstairs hand in hand, in our pyjamas. I couldn’t have imagined things to end up like this but here I was: certainly, definitely walking towards a table full of christmas candles, hand in hand with Jean.

When we walked into the room no one was sitting around it though. ‘What the-’

Jean bumped against my shoulder. ‘Look outside.’

So I did.

And there was my sister, attacking my dad with a snowball even though he was in his bathrobe. My dad was threatening to push over the snowman if she’d hit him. My mother filming it.

Jean laughed, squeezed my hand.

‘Do you want to join?’ I asked him.

‘Yeah.. let’s go.’ He squeezed my hand even tighter. He wouldn’t let go of it until I needed it to put some slippers on. But to my surprise he took my hand again as soon as we had them on. Didn’t let go of it when we walked outside. Still held it when my mum looked at how we held each other, when my sister grinned because of it.

Only let go of it when my father yelled:  ‘Jean! Marco! Help me fight your sister, she’s winning!’

It was only for a while though, just so that I could pick up a hand full of snow and shove it down my sisters back. Only so that he could become my sisters hero by throwing snow at my head. Only to be apart of the family for real this time.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment if you enjoyed this
> 
> They're listening to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvpgiHqgfow & https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qz--YquirSA
> 
>  
> 
> The story was named after: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eIGcnviSuqM


End file.
